ORANGE SANDALWOOD

ORANGE SANDALWOOD

10/01/2012

THE UNDYING LOVE (DRAFTS, UNSENT - OBLIVION FOLDER)

Words, words, so many of them,buried alive on the drafts limboand other nowhere lands,so tired of dying a million tiny deathsWho could read now the spellsof your wrinkled, agonizying souls?Misplaced, soulless sketchesof nothing, shadows or embers or flamesdiseased words, damagedat birth, exhausted messengers who must dieWords, sleeping the seamless dreamof nothingness,some so irreversibly ill, or patientlydegrading under the adverse rain of time goneAll of them, papers who gladly would haveoffered their dusty paper lifeto sing your forever song, to burnin the glorious bonfire of your loveNumbed ink, voiceless stainsunsent drafts, the forgotten, the forever-lost,those aborted on the groundsof being plain stupid, witlessuninspired, undeservingAll of them broken, misshapenmisspelt mismatched misguided,mediocre, poor, half-dead alreadybefore being bornAnd yet, all of them in a row,revealing with unconfessable,alarming precisionmy stubborn, undying love(And the rest, thereafter,will be silence, if it must)